


Septiplier 1

by thespottedowl (orphan_account)



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [2]
Category: jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Septiplier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7213954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thespottedowl





	Septiplier 1

Jack sits silently in his booth, swirling his glass gently as he waits. His chin rests in his palm, disappointment shining in his heavy-lidded eyes. The flow of people around him never ebbs, but he is a calm point in the storm, his body slumped and weary.  
The ice in the man's glass has long since melted, but every time Mark visits his table, he declines a refill, opting to wait in silence for someone who Mark guesses will never come. Glancing at the clock, he discovers that it's now been two hours since he came in. He was different then, confident but still showing the wary hesitance of someone who has not known their date for long.  
Jack sighs as the waiter begins to make his way back towards him. He's attractive, Jack will readily admit, with warm chocolate-and-whiskey eyes and a smile as sweet as the pastries he serves. His bullshit sympathetic expression somehow manages to make him feel worse.  
Mark approaches the graying man once more, a slight note of jealousy colouring his walk. The man looks frustrated, but an idea suddenly pops into Mark's head. He walks more quickly, and once he reaches the table, his tone is too urgent to adhere to the casual masquerade he had hoped for.  
“Are you going to be here for much longer?” the waiter asks, placing his hand on Jack's shoulder. Jack slams his glass down, irritated. “I don't know,” he sighs. “Apparently this guy isn't gonna show, so I've got no reason to be here.” Jack moves to stand up, but the man's firm hand on his chest keeps him stationary.  
“Stay here for, like, five more minutes?” Mark requests. Surprise registers on the face of the man opposite him, but he nods in agreement, and Mark moves to help the table next to his own.  
Jack is drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the surface of the table when his waiter comes back, balancing a plate of steaming brownies and rapidly melting vanilla ice cream. He slides into the booth across from Jack, pushing the plate towards him.  
He smiles kindly. “My name is Mark,” he says. “I'll be your date for tonight. Can I get you started with anything?”


End file.
